


say cheese

by rosetintedworld



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Kink Exploration, Lesbian AU, cis girl au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:01:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosetintedworld/pseuds/rosetintedworld
Summary: Violet paused to sip from her ice coffee, stirring it around in her hands and eyeing the two girls across from her for a moment before continuing, “There’s just softer sides to both of those things, y’know lesbians and kink, especially kinky lesbians, that I want to capture. And I already talked through my ideas with my professor, and she says my subject matter is fine, so don’t even come for me for that Trix. So are you guys in?”Or, that time that Violet needed subjects for a very important shoot and Trixie got roped into it, in more ways than one.





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to post this fic as a grand long one-shot, but alas i am hitting a writers block and still want to release what i have of this into the world. i want to wrap myself up in this little 'verse forever and i hope you enjoy it as much as i do.

The spring air was warm on Trixie’s skin as she walked from her afternoon Shakespearian Literature lecture back to her dorm room. The semester was ¾ over and Trixie felt secure. All her papers were being written and her monologue was being rehearsed and the strain of anxiety in her chest from finals past wasn’t as strong as it was usually. She felt _successful._ It was a short walk from the lecture hall back to her dorm and she didn’t mind making it, the early afternoon heat warmed her bones. Her bag was slung over her shoulder making the straps of her yellow sundress dig into her slightly. She didn't mind. She knew that soon she would tan and the straps of her dress would blend in with the sun kissed freckled skin of her shoulder and the thought of the warmth made her smile. Her hair would bleach even lighter from the sunlight and she'd pull it up into a messy, yet cute, bun on the top of her head like it was now. It was spring. Classes were slowly but surely coming to an end and Trixie could feel herself becoming happier. 

Boston University was nice. Trixie attended the College of Fine Arts and was majoring in Theatre Arts with a concentration on Music Theatre. Her mother had frowned with her eyes and begged Trixie to stay in Wisconsin, to go to school in Milwaukee and get a degree in something useful then move back to their small little town to raise a family but Trixie had always had other plans. Her audition tapes and application essay were met with praise and before she even had the time to raise a perfectly manicured middle finger at her mother's sad excuse for a boyfriend, she was boarding a train and leaving her small country town behind. Sure it was a huge change, but now she was no longer the lone art and drama girl in a high school full of chemistry geniuses. Her eccentric pink outfits and bold makeup were met with nods of approval instead of looks of disgust. She was rooming with her best friend, had a strong group of peers and dare she say _friends_ , was doing well in her classes, and was sure she was going to make it somewhere. She had to make it somewhere. Her dorm was as cozy as her and Kim could make it and just on the corner outside was a small cafe where Trixie frequented to get a large hot chocolate with as much whipped cream and sprinkles as they were allowed to give her. Despite being so far from her small Wisconsin town, Trixie had never felt more at home.

“Kim, hey,” Trixie greeted as she pushed into their dorm room. Kim was Trixie’s best friend. They had been rooming together since freshman year, when they were both nervous wrecks and were scared of their roommate hating their guts so they refused to talk to each other until Kim saw Trixie’s decorations and commented on the sheer amount of pink and the acoustic guitar tucked away in the corner. They’ve been inseparable ever since. 

Kim was a fine arts major as well. If she wasn’t curled up in her dorm watching anime or talking to Trixie she was holed up in one of the large art studios. There was never a time when she wasn’t working on a project, whether it be a painting with the paint layered so thick _for texture_ or an installment of programmed fairy lights that danced around the ceiling or an ensemble that she had called a _soft sculpture_ but Trixie just giggled over Kim’s lisp. The bitch was a creative genius. She was tall with a curvy figure and hips for days, which distracted from the fact she had two left feet and a lisp. Kim had a booming laugh and the snarkiest sense of humour despite having a heart of gold and Trixie thinks that they'd probably get married -  _for the tax benefits_  - if Kim wasn't head over clumsy heels for a petite girl named Naomi who was in one of her English lectures. 

“Hey,” Kim looked up from where she was on her bed, “how was your class?”

“As good as any Shakespearean Literature class can be, I guess.” Trixie laughed and moved to set her things on her desk. It was her last class on a Friday, so nothing truly felt better than that. Trixie fell back onto her bed and started off on how she still didn’t believe Shakespeare was the be-all-end-all when it came to classic literature and theatre, and yet even in the public school system the whole english and drama curriculum revolved around him, it wasn’t _right._

“Oh, I forgot to text you earlier but Pearl and Violet want to know if we want to hang out tonight. Just before finals get too crazy and we’re all too pissy to stand each other.” Kim interrupted, picking at the purple nail polish on her index finger.

Trixie paused and let out a laugh, “Okay, yeah.”

 

* * *

 

Since first coming to Boston U, Pearl and Violet had quickly become close friends to both Trixie and Kim despite being a year older. Trixie’s freshman year Pearl had been their resident assistant, and every damn day Trixie wondered how she kept that job. Pearl would laugh and wave people off when they were caught deer-eyed with a bottle of vodka poking out of their backpack and share a sly smile when girls brought back a guy at the late hours of the night when they weren’t supposed to. She’d knock on doors to ask residents to quiet down before tucking herself in their room to pass around a joint near the window in hopes they’d all chill so that their dorm neighbours wouldn’t come to her with more noise complaints. Trixie doesn’t know how they became friends, but she’s glad they did. And not just because her girlfriend Violet worked at the cafe Trixie liked to visit and snuck her extra pastries when nobody was looking. 

Pearl and Violet were a true dynamic duo. Pearl, like Kim, was a fine arts major with a focus in painting and Violet was majoring in graphic design with a concentration on photography. Their apartment was minimal, the last on the fourth floor of a small building just a few streets over from campus. White walls with white furniture and cool hardwood floors. There was a small balcony that held a table and a few fold out chairs, a small TV tucked in the corner, an open kitchen with an island they’d all sit and drink at and a bathroom that was just big enough for all four girls to get ready together whenever they decided to go out. The walls were lined with paintings — abstract landscapes and portraits and messes of pastels. There were framed photographs on every table top surrounded by fashion magazines, and polaroids clothes-pinned on twine. Trixie remembers a drunken night coming across a drawer in the bedroom with paddles and gags and toys and pile of polaroids Violet had taken of Pearl with her body contorted and tied and gagged looking so serene yet desperate and she remembers how her stomach churned and she hid them because it felt like she invaded into something more personal than she could truly imagine, despite how open Violet and Pearl were about their sex life.

When Trixie and Kim got to Pearl and Violet’s apartment, Pearl was already halfway to stoned. She opened the door with sleepy eyes and let the other girls in before sauntering back over to the couch. Violet greeted them from the kitchen and brought out two pizza boxes that she must have ordered just before they got there before coming to join the rest of them on the couch. Pearl passed the joint to Violet and immediately lit up a cigarette. Trixie's eyes flickered to where she saw a small burn - presumably from a cigarette - on Pearl's hip surrounded by a purple bite mark poking out of where her velvet shorts hung off of her. The air was hot in her lungs and she imagined flames licking up her chest and brain and making her feel all fuzzy and warm from the inside out. She coughed. She didn't smoke very often. 

They talked about their classes and work and final projects and how the sun was setting and the sky was the perfect shade of lavender that it made Pearl want to paint but she didn’t want to move from where she was tucked into Violet’s side and playing with her hair absentmindedly. Trixie liked nights like these. Her head was a bit fuzzy and her limbs felt warm but she was happy and content, even if her chest ached slightly at the domesticity of her friends on the couch since all of her previous dates had crashed and burned. Kim rolled her eyes at the couple as Violet rolled another joint and made a snarky comment on how Kim just needed to get laid. Trixie laughed.

“What about you, Barbie? When’s the last time you got laid?” Violet blew out a puff of smoke and leaned in, smirking at the blonde.

“I’m just like… really focussing on my career right now.” Trixie let out a cackle, as she twirled a curl of hair around her finger, “Fuck I don’t know!”

“I could hook you up with this girl in my art history class!” Pearl piped up from where she was now lying with her head in Violet’s lap, “She’s blonde and hot. And she’s Russian! She’s also totally into girls, I could smell it from a mile away. All your hot older girl fantasies can finally come true!”

All four girls broke out in laughter and Trixie excused herself to the bathroom. She was doing just fine on her own, thank you very much.

 

* * *

 

 The next time Trixie found herself at Violet and Pearl’s was on a Tuesday night after an 9pm lecture on theatrical history and all she wanted to do was go back to her dorm and sleep in all Wednesday morning then start on her thesis for said Theatre History class. She left the hall and pulled out her phone to check her notifications.

_Kim: hey trix! im over at vi and pearls, u should come once ur out of ur lecture. im probably just gonna crash here_

Trixie sent a quick confirmation back and locked her phone again, continuing towards the dorms. The sky was turning a deep shade of purple-blue and she could see the faint sparks of orange where the sun was setting on the horizon. She imagined Pearl leaning off her balcony and rushing to grab her oils to capture the moment in her own eyes and decided that yeah, seeing her friends tonight could be nice. She could always write her thesis there, anyways.

Although, when Trixie got to their apartment, pink Kanken bag in tow, she wasn’t expecting to see a girl she didn’t recognize sitting at the kitchen table fiddling with a cigarette and throwing her head back in wheezing laughter.

The girl was smaller than Trixie. Shorter by about an inch or two but with a smaller frame and lean build. Trixie could see the muscles of her thighs and calves against her black skinny jeans and the freckles on her pale shoulder from where her problem-patterned peasant top was slipping. It had been cut haphazardly into a crop top and usually Trixie would grimace at the sight but on this girl it was almost endearing. Her feet had the slightest of tan lines that Trixie could only imagine were from the clunky jelly platforms kicked off by the front door. Her hair was curly and blonde and tangling in a necklace that looked like it was made of cigarettes and it shifted when she whipped her head around to look at Trixie. Trixie was too focussed on the cherry red of her lips to notice anything else.

"Hey Trix," Violet smiled knowingly as the blonde tucked her head down and toed off her shoes. 

"Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova," the other girl's hand was thrust towards Trixie as she sat down at the island. She paused, mouth agape, and the shorter girl smiled wide at her confusion, "but you can call me Katya."

"Trixie." Her palm was sweating in the grip of Katya's hand. Or maybe it was sweating before. She couldn't tell.

"Nice to meet you, Tracy."

"No sorry um it's Trix-"

"Tamara." 

Katya wiggled her eyebrows and broke out into laughter at Trixie's confused expression. Trixie thought she could pick out an accent,  _Polish? Russian?,_ but she wasn't quite sure. It was there in her  _r_ 's and the way she introduced herself and the way Trixie's name rolled off her tongue when she gave up on tormenting the poor girl. She was all high cheekbones and red lips and perfectly straight white teeth and Trixie was so fascinated by this mystery woman sitting at her best friend's kitchen island staring her down as if she was trying to unwrap her with her eyes, strip her down to her core and figure out how she worked and what made her tick. Trixie thought she might let her.  

Pearl re-entered the kitchen with a bottle of vodka and searched the fridge for mix, "To exams starting soon and the inevitable impending doom!". Trixie let out a yell of a laugh and raised her own glass to meet with the others. Katya raised a freshly lit cigarette. 

 

* * *

 

"Are you sure writing a paper after five vodka cranberries is a good idea?" Katya found herself sitting across from Trixie at the kitchen island again. The rest of the girls had made their way to the living room, Violet nursing the bottle of Absolut and Pearl and Kim giggling over something Trixie couldn't make out. 

"Sometimes," Trixie took a sip from her glass pointedly, "you gotta do what you gotta do." Katya grinned at her. Some of her lipstick had transferred to her teeth and in Trixie's drunken haze she reached out to wipe it off with her thumb. Katya wrapped her lips around the digit and swiped her tongue across the pad of Trixie's thumb before Trixie recoiled. Her chest and cheeks were flushed. Trixie didn't know how much of it was from the alcohol anymore. 

"What are you writing about, кукла?" Katya took a long pull from her cigarette.

Trixie indulged Katya in an answer. She talked about her Theatre History class and Professer Minj and her sharp wits and humour. She talked about her classes and the thrill she got while performing and how she had played Dorothy in her middle school's rendition of  _The Wizard of Oz_. She talked about her grandfather teaching her to play acoustic guitar and how she'd sneak out of the house on late nights as a teenager with her friend from high school Adore and they would go and watch rock shows by local bands in the basement of somebody's house. And Katya laughed and chain smoked and picked at her cuticles, watching the way Trixie's pink lips moved as she talked and how the freckles on her cheek danced when her face contorted into a smile and how her voice sounded like pure honey. They talked until Violet choked out a snore from the other room and the clock flashed  _2:27 AM._

"Hey, uh, I can drive you home if you want." Katya offered. Trixie had sobered up significantly compared to earlier but still didn't feel like making the walk all the way back, or calling for taxi or Uber.

"If it's not out of your way... that'd be really nice."

The short ride back to Trixie's dorm was quiet except for the whispering of directions. She murmured her  _thank you_ s and Katya nodded and smiled as Trixie gathered her things and made her way inside the building.

Trixie wasn't sure why she dreamt of red lips and the way Katya's name felt on her tongue that night.


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s probably not very good for your skin, you know.”
> 
> “Good observation, but I’ve had paint crusting on my face for the past three hours, мой сладкий, so anything is fair game now.” Katya grinned from where paint was dripping off her face and onto the porcelain. 
> 
> Trixie laughed and the sound reverberated in Katya’s chest. It was shrill but warm and Katya wanted to make her laugh over and over. She was like a baby you just wanted to keep cooing, keep smiling up at you with those big, big eyes. She wanted to dig her fingers into Trixie’s soft hips taunting her against the grey countertop. Katya scrubbed at her face harder and wished it was Trixie’s soft fingers on her instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like maybe i should apologize for the amount of weed they smoke in this fic but  
> 1\. a good portion of this fic was written as i was baked, so it only seems fitting  
> 2\. its 2017, everybody smokes weed. especially them. get with the times brenda

_ The Brewery  _ was a small shop on the corner from Trixie’s dorm. It was warm and cozy and Trixie had claimed her spot in the far right corner within her first week on campus. It had dark wood panelled walls and an electric fireplace. It was accented with burgundy and had brown leather arm chairs two per table. Windows circled the whole store and filled the room with warmth despite the AC sputtering in the back. Soft indie folk songs played from the speakers.

Trixie sipped on her hot chocolate tucked away in the back corner. Dark clouds rolled overhead outside and Trixie only curled up further in her seat. The rain hitting the windows mimicked her typing. Papers upon papers were due and deadlines were growing nearer and if Trixie didn’t get out of her dorm soon she’d probably go insane. Sure, no matter where she went she’d still be working, but it felt good to leave her dorm room. The cafe was empty, for the most part. Behind the counter stood Violet and another girl Trixie was pretty sure she had a crush on in first year but she couldn’t pin-point her name anymore. It didn’t matter. She had a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and the heat burned her tongue as she continued typing with one hand. It was like a scene in a cliche romcom. Trixie wondered when the love of her life was going to appear. It really didn’t matter.

“Hey, stranger.”

Trixie looked up only to find Katya about 3 inches from her face. Her breath smelt like coffee and cigarettes. This cliche romcom fantasy had gone too far, tapping into Trixie’s subconscious like that. Her eyes were smoky and blown out and her lips were lined with a slightly darker shape of red than her lipstick and were pulled back into an infectious smile. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead. Katya had her hair pulled back in a  _ scrunchie _ and Trixie would usually be disgusted but for some reason it worked. Trixie watched as Katya sat down across from her and took a long sip of her black coffee, scrunching her nose as the drink burned the tip of her tongue. She was wearing tight black yoga pants that clung to her thighs and a red track jacket. One sleeved was rolled up to her elbow.

“Hey… Katya?” Trixie asked. She knew it was Katya. She had facebook stalked her and hovered over the  _ friend  _ button for an hour before stopping because she had only met her once and didn’t even manage to get her number despite them hitting off. Katya’s name was always on the tip of her tongue for the past week whenever she was around Pearl or alone with her hand tucked into her panties as she thought about red, red lips. But she could act cool. Katya beamed a smile at her.

“What are you working on, Barbie?” Trixie blushed at the name.

“Paper for my  _ Shakespearean Literature _ class,” she shrugged and took a sip of her hot chocolate, “you know how it is.”

Katya propped her elbows on the table and leaned in, peering at Trixie over the top of her laptop, “Da! You’re a theatre major. I remember.”

“Painting, right?” Trixie closed the lid of her laptop.

Katya was able to see her full face without the light of the laptop now. She was nearly bare faced, only wearing mascara and lip gloss and the older girl wanted to count each individual freckle splayed across the girl's cheeks. Like a constellation of stars from her nose to under her eye. Trixie’s blonde hair was in soft curls over her shoulders. They reminded Katya of the models she used to see as a young girl that she’d point out to her mom in the supermarket. Her mother would shush her when Katya got older and questioned why she had to grow up and kiss  _ boys  _ when she just wanted to kiss pretty girls. That mouth of hers was gonna get her in trouble one day, her mother would scold. But Trixie wasn’t unattainable like the models. She was real and in front of her. She was curvy and soft and was wearing a soft pink dress underneath a chunky knit cardigan. Katya wanted to hold her. Wanted to brush her hair and sit on the counter watching Trixie put on mascara in the morning. So delicate and careful. She thinks her mother would like Trixie if she ever met her.

“Yeah, painting.”

* * *

 

“So did you finally ask Katya for her number or  _ something  _ or are you gonna keep pussy-footing around?”

Pearl was set up in the middle of the living room. The coffee table was pushed to the side to make room for her easel and paints and colour-stained sheets to keep her from flinging paint around the entire apartment. Her hair was tied up behind her and she wore a black apron with her cigarettes and a joint tucked in the front pocket for easy access. She was working on a series of surreal paintings for her final project. Trixie could make out the outlines of a woman, her face cracking like a dolls and the vines of flowers peeking out. The girl in the painting was all sharp angles, pointed eyebrows, and pursed lips. Trixie wondered if Pearl knew how much of Violet she could see in every one of her paintings.

“What are you on about?” Trixie kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch facing Pearl. She was here to work and maybe get a little tipsy, not be harassed about a pretty girl she barely knew.

“Dude, Violet was texting me the whole time you guys were at the shop together. She said you guys were basically eye fucking each other. You were all giggly and shit, twirling your hair. So are you gonna do anything about your cute middle school crush or do I have to tell her that you wanna bang her myself?”

Trixie felt the couch dip beside her as Pearl set down, stretching her legs over Trixie’s lap. She lit a cigarette. The end flared as Pearl took a drag and Trixie watched her purple fingertips smudge and stain the smoke between her fingers. Pearl exhaled towards Trixie and raised an eyebrow waiting for an answer.

“Okay first of all, fuck you,” she waved the smoke away from her face, “second of all, there’s nothing between us. I don’t want a relationship or to bang her she’s just cool to talk to and maybe she’s hot but it literally doesn’t matter.”

“Who’s hot?”

Violet pushes the apartment door open with her hip, followed by a dazed looking Katya. Violet’s camera bag was slung over her shoulder, her purse on the other, and Katya was holding what could only be a bag of costumes and props and makeup.

“Nothing! Nobody. You don’t know them.” Trixie wanted to disappear.

Pearl laughed and pushed away from Trixie, stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray by her easel and beckoning Violet and Katya over. Within 10 seconds Violet was wrapped behind Pearl on the couch, leaving Katya standing more-or-less awkwardly in front of them looking like a deer in the headlights. She lit a cigarette and let the hot, hot nicotine sooth her nerves.

“I have no fucking clue what I’m doing,” Violet drawled from her end of the couch. She was usually the one who was in control. She not only talked the talk, but she walked the walk. A philosophy of  _ if you can’t love yourself how in the hell are you going to love somebody else? _ But finals seem to get the best of everyone. “I feel like everything I shoot lately isn’t being perceived how I want it to be. I hate professor Visage. Like…  _ fuck. _ I have all these concepts but she keeps saying I have to take more risks. What the fuck does that mean?”

The flick of a lighter breaks the silence and Violet takes a long drag of the joint just passed to her.

“Okay. So I have this idea that plays with the idea of girls wearing too much makeup and how it’s a lie and just… all that bullshit. Anyways, Pearlie can I use some of your paints?”

* * *

 

That’s hour Trixie found herself an hour later on the floor of the apartment painting careful lines onto Katya’s face with Pearl’s acrylic paint. Fucking art kids. The paint was cool on Katya’s skin and she was sure she was going to combust at any given moment. She could feel Trixie’s warm breath on her nose as she worked. A paintbrush dipped into her cheekbones and above her lip as the planes of her face were painted in abstract colours. Violet was above them taking warm up shots and adjusting her camera settings. Photos of the paint brush painting warm red on the apples of Katya’s cheeks, the way her lips pursed when highlighted with a thin stroke of white paint. Katya was pretty sure she was becoming the poster-child for the entire pop art movement of the 50s. But Trixie was warm above her so she’d put up with the clicking of a camera in her ear for a little longer. 

Violet had an impressive stash of equipment locked away in her closet. Heavy sheets and softbox lighting and fairy lights and lenses. She had Katya set up in front of said black sheet, stripped out of her sweater with her bra straps hanging down off her shoulders to play into the  _ nude illusion _ that Violet was going for. Trixie painted a thin blue stripe down her shoulder and across her collarbones and she thinks her hands would be shaking if it weren’t for the weed and Katya’s hand resting on her shoulder. The softbox light was warm on their skin and Violet snapped a photo as Trixie moved a hair out of Katya’s face.

Katya was a good model. She had pretty features and a strong facial structure. She cracked jokes and carefully took drags of the joint and her own cigarettes as to not mess up her face. Violet knew the angles and the lights and how to make Katya convey the emotions she wanted. The city was busy below them but in the dark apartment all you could hear was the click of the camera and Trixie’s nails against her laptop. It felt  _ homely.  _ Everyone working together in silence. Trixie would take breaks to move Katya’s hair, touch up on the paint. Some of the pictures with a glimpse of Trixie in them — a manicured hand, the silhouette of her face — were the best.

It was late when Violet decided to call it quits and pack up her equipment along with Pearl’s easel and paints from earlier. Trixie found herself in the bathroom trailing behind an oddly enthusiastic for 3AM paint covered Katya. She hopped up on the counter, the granite cool against her ass, and watched the other girl.

“Do they have any, um…” Katya exited the room for a moment and Trixie could hear her searching through cabinets, “okay yeah cool.” She returned with a bottle of Dawn dish soap and started running the sink.

“That’s probably not very good for your skin, you know.”

“Good observation, but I’ve had paint crusting on my face for the past three hours,  мой сладкий, so anything is fair game now.” Katya grinned from where paint was dripping off her face and onto the porcelain.

Trixie laughed and the sound reverberated in Katya’s chest. It was shrill but warm and Katya wanted to make her laugh over and over. She was like a baby you just wanted to keep cooing, keep smiling up at you with those big, big eyes. She wanted to dig her fingers into Trixie’s soft hips taunting her against the grey countertop. Katya scrubbed at her face harder and wished it was Trixie’s soft fingers on her instead.

* * *

Trixie’s phone lit up later the next day with a text from Violet and an unknown number. 

_ Violet: Hey. I edited some of the photos but idk how I feel about them. I have an idea tho. Can both of you meet me at The Brewery in 10? My shift ends then. _

Her phone buffered as some of the images sent through. Katya with the light reflecting off her face and the contrast of the dark paint against her pale skin, Trixie’s fingertips and her nose almost touching the side of Katya’s face. She saved the photos to her phone quickly.

_???: see u soon cunt! _

_ Trixie: on my way! :* _

Trixie saved the unknown contact in her phone as  _ “Katya <3” _ , lingering her fingers over the keys before entering it and pocketing her phone.

“I’m heading out Kim. Violet needs help with her photography final and shit.” Kim nodded in response as Trixie left, the door closing behind her softly.

The cafe was quiet other than Violet and one of her coworker’s cleaning behind the counter. Katya was in the back where Trixie usually sits, eyeing the clock almost as closely as Violet was. Trixie sat down across from her just in time for Violet to whip off her apron and pull up a third chair beside them.

“Okay. So. Don’t like, wig out on me or whatever just listen. I talked it through with Visage and I’ve been sketching and I want my final to be a series of portraits capture things people see as  _ abnormal and perverted _ . And I want you guys to be my models. You guys just have chemistry on camera. It’s disgusting.” Trixie squeezes her fingers around the latte that Violet had brought her when she sat down. Her face flushed at the thought of her and Katya together like that. Even if it was just to fulfil Violet’s sick aesthetic and liberal view of beauty.

“It’s like… I don’t know. I want to capture the softer side of things that people see as perverted and fucked up. Like lesbian relationships people see as so sinful and gross when it’s no different than straight relationships  _ and _ we actually get off when we have sex because we don’t have a boyfriend who doesn’t know what the fuck the clit is.” Violet continued after a moment.

Katya lets out a laugh. Trixie flushes and darts her eyes away from where they had become fixed on Katya’s lips.

“Same with kink. I mean, yeah that’s obviously sexual to an extent but it’s not just a bunch of freaks doing weird shit to get off and that’s-that. There’s different dynamics to it and mindsets and any portrayal of it it  _ does _ get is just so unhealthy.” Violet paused to sip from her ice coffee, stirring it around in her hands and eyeing the two girls across from her for a moment before continuing, “There’s just softer sides to both of those things, y’know lesbians and kink, especially kinky lesbians, that I want to capture. And I already talked through my ideas with my professor, and she says my subject matter is fine, so don’t even come for me for that Trix. So are you guys in?”

Katya pauses for a moment before nodding, “I’m in.”

Trixie doesn’t know how they’re talking about the subject so unapologetically in the small cafe but she finds herself nodding anyways, nursing her latte. Katya squeezes her knee under the table.


End file.
